


(Beautiful) Anomaly

by SapphyreLily



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, How even, M/M, Soulmate AU, multiple types of soulmarks, oh look i created a new ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily
Summary: Mismatched soulmarks do not mean that you aren't soulmates. The truth is in the bond, not in the physical mark.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All_My_Characters_Are_Dead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead/gifts).



> I missed Christmas, so happy holidays!!
> 
> I'm so sorry I'm late!

Sakusa was born with six characters on his left cheekbone. They increased in number from left to right, three columns of one, two and three.

He always wondered what they were, because while _gentle/affectionate_ was a nice descriptor, he had no idea what to make of the other two longer words.

He was fifteen before his mother finally told him that they were the names of his soulmates.

She didn’t want to believe that he had three, not that he could believe it either.

Why would three different people want him?

x.x.x.x.x

Semi always wondered what colour looked like. His parents tried to teach him about _red_ and _blue_ and _green_ , but he had never understood what was so great about differing shades of grey.

He was five when his parents finally gave up on teaching him what colours were, instead giving him a labelled colour wheel and telling him to ask his soulmate when he found them.

He waited, and waited, but the world never turned bright, always remaining that dull shade of grey.

x.x.x.x.x

Daishou always wondered what his soulmate mark would be like.

He had seen his parents’ – their name scrawled across the other’s arm – and some of his friends were colour blind. He had heard about the very many types of marks, of the very different sort that would never appear until you met your soulmate in person.

He held on to hope, and wished.

x.x.x.x.x

Shirabu couldn’t care less about soulmates.

His parents were soulmates – yet, they had broken up, leaving him with his father and commuting to his mother on weekends.

Soulmates weren’t real, and the bond wasn’t all that strong.

He hoped he never found his.

x.x.x.x.x

Sakusa was shocked when he finally found one of his soulmates.

He had taken to covering up his mark ever since he found out – his mother was scandalised, and he was no less ashamed. But of course, the mask had to come off whenever he played volleyball, showing his shame to the world.

They were playing against one of the better schools – Nohebi Academy – and he was face to face with one of their wing spikers. The other had looked at him and made to say something aggravating – as expected of Nohebi – when he spotted the writing on Sakusa's face.

He paled so quickly that Sakusa almost wanted to call the referee for him, but then the ball was in play, and he paid the opponent no mind.

It was only later, when the match was over – Itachiyama won, as per usual – that he came face to face with that same wing spiker, and felt a tingling where their palms met.

Deep purple spread over the other spiker's hand, though his skin remained clear.

Their heads lifted, their eyes met. The other smiled a little shakily and said, “My name is Suguru.”

On his left cheekbone, one character burned, as if in recognition.

x.x.x.x.x

Semi remembers when he first saw red.

Literally.

They had been having a match when he realised that everything was tinged a different shade – he had asked a teammate then, after noticing that there was a line painted that colour on the court.

The teammate had been confused, and then understanding. “That’s red.” A friendly shove to his shoulder, a teasing question. “Who’s your soulmate?”

Semi has been about to answer that he didn’t know when the ball had come flying at him and he had no choice but to receive it.

They lost that point, and it nearly cost them the game. Semi was almost relieved when the red faded, and he could go back to focusing on the familiar greys.

It had been two years since then, and with the new first years standing in front of him, the red was suddenly back.

He frowned and looked up at his best friend, only for his jaw to fall slack. “Satori, is your hair _red_?”

Tendou sniffed in mock offense. “How kind of you to finally notice, SemiSemi. As if _living_ with me for the past year didn’t drill that into your head.”

“I can’t see colour, you ass. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh, right.”

A pause, and then a shout so loud that the first years stuttering in front of them stopped to listen.

“ _OH, YOU CAN SEE COLOUR!”_

Semi hurriedly hushed him, but the damage was done. Coach Washijou was stomping over to them, and everybody knew that Coach coming to give them an ultimatum _in person_ was worse than plain old bad news.

Twenty laps around the field later, Semi was ready to denounce Tendou as his best friend. Maybe Reon would be a better choice.

Coach Washijou was waiting when they returned, half-dead and out of breath. “Semi, go work with the first year setters. Tendou, with the blockers.”

They bowed and ran in opposite directions, Tendou leaving Semi an encouraging pat on the back as they parted.

They had few new setters that year, and Semi was ready to be civil to them, as his upperclassmen had not been to him.

He _had_ been ready, but not for someone with a snarky attitude.

“What’s with your hair?”

He turned to the speaker, vision tinged red.

He was shorter than him, bangs cut at an angle. It was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but retort, “What’s with yours?”

The younger setter was about to reply when his fellow first years shushed him, apologising in his stead and suggesting they move on.

That was Semi’s first impression of Shirabu Kenjirou.

x.x.x.x.x

Shirabu scrubbed at his wrist vigorously, but instead of coming off, the skin around the words grew red and raw.

_What’s with yours?_

There was only one person who had said those words to him, and he was pretty sure they hadn’t been there before practice.

He slammed his fist onto the table top, cursing his luck and his lot in life.

x.x.x.x.x

Daishou strolled down the streets of Tokyo, his soulmate an awkward figure beside him. He had wanted to talk about something, but the other was so awkward that he hardly knew where to begin.

There was a little tug at his sleeve, and he turned to see Sakusa ducking into a small café. Sighing heavily, he made to follow, and finally spotted him sequestered in a back corner after a few minutes of searching.

“What would you like?”

Daishou told himself it didn’t matter that Sakusa flinched at the sound of his voice, that his eyes were averted the whole time.

“…anything is fine.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He got hot chocolate for the both of them, because that was the safest option. Who knew if getting tea or coffee would make his soulmate hate him even more?

_The soulmate I’ve been searching for my whole life._

He shook the thoughts off, and returned to their small table.

Sakusa nodded his thanks when the cup was set in front of him, and made to grab his wallet. Daishou’s hand shot out to stop him, catching his wrist and saying, “It’s fine. My treat.”

Sakusa nodded and hurriedly withdrew his hand. Daishou tried not to let it bother him that he seemed to be scrubbing his touch off his skin, looking instead at the purple splashed across his palm, dull and lifeless.

“Daishou.”

It was soft, barely above a whisper, but he flinched all the same. Who knew hearing his last name would hurt so much?

“…Suguru.” Sakusa seemed hesitant as he reached across the table, lightly grabbing his jacket. “I do not mean to offend you. I just don’t like germs.”

_A clean freak?_ The brunet sighed. _Guess I’ll have to deal._

“It’s alright. Just… Maybe we can talk this out?”

Sakusa nodded, slowly raising his gaze so that their eyes could meet. “What do you want to talk about?”

Daishou exhaled slowly, taking a sip of his drink to gather his thoughts. “This soulmate stuff.”

Sakusa’s eyes immediately fell to the table, brow furrowing. “I’m sorry.”

He had not expected that. “What? Why?”

_Am I not good enough? But we just met! Aren’t soulmates supposed to be irrevocably linked?_

“I’m sorry that you’re not my only soulmate.” Sakusa lifted a hand to unhook his mask, baring his soulmark. His hand reached up to trace the three names tattooed on his skin, his eyes sorrowful. “I’m sorry that I won’t be able to give my all for you.”

Daishou gaped, eyes taking in the names for the second time. His tongue was tied, heart lodged in his throat, and it was a moment before he could choke out, “No, _I’m_ sorry.”

It was Sakusa’s turn to be taken aback. “Why would you be sorry?”

Daishou showed him the faded purple, huffing when the last of it disappeared from sight. “May I?”

Sakusa reached out and placed his hand in his.

“I heard,” Daishou began, “That coloured soulmarks are rare. But those who do have them say that their colours are bright, vibrant, shades ranging from the darkest of that colour to the brightest, depending on their soulmate’s mood.”

Sakusa said nothing, but his hand climbed up, thumb swiping the inside of his wrist.

“…the colour looks exactly the same.”

“That’s why I’m sorry.” Their eyes met, and Daishou stroked his fingers along Sakusa’s wrist, his fingertips staining purple. “We are definitely soulmates, this proves that much, but this dull colour… I think it means you are not my only soulmate either.

“I always wanted to find my soulmate,” he pressed on, before the younger could say anything. “I thought that I’d be able to love them fully, give them the world, _anything_ they wished for.”

“Would you not do that now?” Sakusa tried to pull back, but Daishou’s grip was firm.

“That’s not what I mean.” He took a deep breath. “I mean that I cannot give you the whole world, not when you have to share that with the other soulmates that I will eventually find. I’m sorry that you will have only part of my attention when we are all together.”

Sakusa was silent for so long, Daishou almost dropped his hand and ran.

“I would forgive you.”

Sakusa’s lips pulled up slightly, into the semblance of a smile. He tapped his cheek by way of explanation, quietly reminding, “I cannot give you the world either, because I have to think of them.”

Daishou felt his panic crack and fall away, and he turned Sakusa’s hand over to lace their fingers together. “That’s all right. I can learn to share.”

Sakusa's smile grew a little wider, and he pulled the cup of hot chocolate towards him, entwined fingers never letting go. “As can I.”

A sip was taken before the cup was set down and he pondered out loud, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we shared the same soulmates?”

Daishou lifted his own cup, taking a long draw before he replied.

“It would. And it would give us a place to start.”

x.x.x.x.x

Semi stared at the colour wheel hanging from his bag, at the words pronouncing each slice a certain colour.

He could see red, yellow was tinted slightly red, but all the other colours were still various tones of grey. He looked up to watch his teammates run about, each of them tinged various shades of red, Tendou’s bright hair bobbing above the rest. He wondered how no one was distracted by the colour during practice, because he could hardly look at him when they were playing any more.

(When they were alone in their room, Tendou regressed back to grey, and that was a relief.)

(It also solidified his belief that his soulmate was one of the first years, but who?)

“Semi-san.”

He looked up, only to meet the eyes of his least favourite first year. “Shirabu.”

The younger was fidgeting, before he seemed to gather himself, and looked him straight in the eye. “Would you practice with me?”

Semi raised an eyebrow, but picked himself off the ground. “Alright.”

They moved over to the nearest empty court, warming up with light throws before moving on to tossing and digging.

Semi noticed a small white bandage on Shirabu’s wrist, but told himself not to interfere. He would only intervene if it seemed like the wound was too serious for him to continue playing.

Coach Washijou called them over for a practice match before long, but before they could move to their separate strings, Shirabu felt a hand on his shoulder.

“If you’re injured, sit out. It’s better to let the wound rest and heal than to continue aggravating it.”

Shirabu's eyes flicked to him and away, a clear dismissal. “I’m fine.”

“If you want to get into first string as much as I think you do, you should take care of yourself,” Semi insisted.

The brunet refused to look at him. “Thank you for your concern.”

And then he was gone, easily blending in with the other first years.

Semi felt his blood boil, but went to take his place next to Tendou, fuming quietly.

What was _his_ problem?

x.x.x.x.x

Shirabu peeled the bandage off, grimacing at how soaked it was. If Coach kept up with this intensity of training, the bandage was sure to fall off during practice, and then everyone would see his mark.

“Is that your soulmark?”

Shirabu whipped around, hiding his wrist in his shirt. Semi raised an eyebrow at his defensiveness, then shrugged it off and moved to his locker. “You don’t have to hide it. No one is going to judge you for having a mark.”

_I’m not afraid of judgement,_ he wanted to say. _I don’t want_ you _to find out._

“No one else on the team has such an obvious mark,” he said instead.

“Not everyone else on the team would be able to find their soulmate,” Semi countered. “Count yourself lucky that you have something that will lead you to them.”

_What if I don’t want a soulmate?_

It was supposed to be soft, supposed to be a grumble he kept to himself, but apparently his upperclassman had the hearing of a bat. “What? Why wouldn’t you?”

**_Tell him. Tell him, and hope he never finds out._ **

“Soulmate bonds aren’t anything special.”

Semi stared at him for a long moment, head cocked. “You know of soulmates who didn’t work out.”

A short nod as he turned away. He didn’t want to disclose more information.

He heard the bench creak, heard Semi sigh. “I guess that makes sense. You’d be wary after knowing that something like that happened.

“But don’t make one relationship the focal point of your own experiences. Not all soulmates are in romantic relationships. Some remain as good friends. Make your judgement after meeting your soulmate, but don’t avoid them based on one relationship that went bad.”

The words were out before he could stop himself. “Who said I’m avoiding them?”

Semi shot him a look. “You only started wearing that bandage from the second practice onwards. It looks like you want someone in this school – or team – to remain oblivious about your bond.” He walked over to the door, pausing as he was about to step out. “Don’t be selfish and leave them in the dark, especially if you know who they are. Not everyone has the liberty of a soulmark as obvious as yours.”

That was new. “Aren’t soulmarks supposed to match?”

“Most do,” Semi agreed. “But some soulmates have different marks, or so I’ve heard.”

Shirabu felt his heart lift, relief spearing him. He tried to keep his tone cool and bored, an innocent question on his tongue. “Have you found your soulmate?”

Semi's fingers tightened on the doorframe. “No. But I know I’ve met them recently.”

More quietly, a little pleadingly, “If you know who they are, I’d appreciate if you told them to talk to me.”

Then he was gone, leaving Shirabu with a soaked bandage and a lot of questions.

x.x.x.x.x

“Kyoomi.”

“What is it?”

“I finally remembered where I’ve heard one of your soulmate's names before.”

“Where?”

“I think he’s a setter for Shiratorizawa.”

Fabric rustled, and a phone was pulled out, words typed into it.

“…are you free next Saturday?”

x.x.x.x.x

Semi remembered when he first saw green.

Nationals. Shiratorizawa had advanced to the top eight, and he had been running errands for his upperclassmen when a new shade that wasn’t red became visible for just a moment.

There were so many people, so many bodies in the crowd. The colour soon faded, and he knew not who it was.

The colour came back in fleeting glances through the different matches, but he could never pinpoint it, never identify who his soulmate was.

It occurred to him then that maybe, maybe he didn’t have only _one_ soulmate.

It was a nice thought.

x.x.x.x.x

Shirabu was picking a stray ball when he heard someone call, “Excuse me, is Semi Eita here?”

His ankle itched, and he bent to rub at it, eyes sweeping the almost empty court. His gaze darted back to the people standing at the door of the gym, noting their casual outfits before he stood and went to tell his upperclassman.

“Semi-san, someone is looking for you.”

“Who is it?” He turned to look.

Shirabu wasn’t given a chance to reply; he heard Semi suck in a sharp breath, and then a hand was gripping his shoulder tightly, cocoa eyes fixed on the ball in his hands. “I can see.”

_Oh no, he’s lost it._

“Yes, you can…?”

“What colour is this?” Semi’s finger traced a swirl on the ball, sweeping across the deep blue.

“Blue? Semi-san, are you alright?”

“Blue.” Semi whispered it almost reverently, seemingly caught in a daze. “And this is yellow?”

“Yes…?” Shirabu was confused. “Semi-san, someone is looking for you–”

The ash blond jerked, eyes so wide it was almost comical. “Right. Come with me.”

“I– What? Semi-san–”

He couldn’t get a word in edgewise before he was grabbed and dragged off.

Their dash across the gym couldn’t have taken more than a minute, but Shirabu felt his face burn all the same. Why was he being pulled into this?

The duo at the door straightened as they approached, the one with sideswept bangs saying, “Which one of you is Semi?”

“He is.”

“I am.”

Semi looked down at Shirabu, eyes widening before he released his arm with a soft _I’m sorry._

Shirabu rubbed at his arm, taking a step back, but not too far that he couldn’t watch them talk.

The first one spoke again, his words fast and hurried. “We’re sorry for dropping in on you like this, but if you would hear us out–”

“I don’t need to hear it,” Semi interrupted, grabbing his arm. “Both of you are my soulmates, right?”

“Uh, yes, but–”

“Ah, sorry.” Semi released him, panic in his voice. “I’m just– Overexcited, I guess? It’s nice – shocking, but nice – to be able to finally see colour–”

_(“OH, YOU CAN SEE COLOUR!”)_

It was like something clicked in his mind, as if a veil had fallen away.

_His soulmark is colour blindness._

Shirabu wondered how he didn’t realise it before.

“Suguru, your arm is grey.”

Shirabu’s head snapped up, eyes fixed on the gunmetal coloured handprint on Suguru’s arm.

_Colour touch._

_What are the odds of so many different soulmarks between soulmates?_

Semi seemed to have a similar reaction, eyes wide, his hand stretched out, as if to touch. “You got a nice soulmark.”

Suguru closed the distance between them, but colour only spread on his skin, a deep grey blooming where Semi's remained clear. “Thank you. But it is still incomplete.”

“What?”

Shirabu wasn’t sure who was more shocked between the two of them.

“Colour touch is supposed to show different colour shades if you’ve met all your soulmates, but the colours are still dull,” Suguru explained, fingers prodding the stain on his skin. “We thought that there might be a fourth soulmate to complete the bond.”

Semi was silent, and Shirabu was rigid behind him, panic filling his veins. He inched behind the ash blond completely, squatting to rub at his ankle, cautiously pulling his sock down.

He couldn’t make out the words, _but there were words._

_Oh, hell **no**._

_Why does this keep happening to me?_

“I know there is a fourth.”

Shirabu froze, head slowly tuning to look. Semi was standing with his hands clenched, his voice soft.

“Before you two came here today, I could only see red. But now, I can see all the colours.”

“Do you know who it is?!” Suguru jumped forward, but Semi shook his head.

“I only know it’s one of the first years in the volleyball club.”

The masked boy stepped forward, his voice soft but clear. “I know who he is, but I need your help identifying him.”

“How would you–”

Shirabu stood slowly and tried to inch away, but his eyes were still glued on the other boy, on how he was pulling his mask off, revealing something tattooed on his cheek. He saw Semi step forward to peer at the words, murmuring them to himself.

“Kenjirou?”

Shirabu tripped at the sound of his name, the ball dropping and rolling away as he ran as fast as he could.

x.x.x.x.x

Semi stared at the neat kanji, his thoughts at a halt.

_Suguru. Eita. Kenjirou._

_Kenjirou._

_Shirabu?!_

He whipped around, only to see his underclassman halfway across the court, sprinting like his life depended on it.

_Why is he running?!_

“Shirabu! Get back here! Taichi! Stop him!”

Kawanishi looked up curiously, but obediently stepped into Shirabu’s path and pinned him in place. He could see them having a furious whispered conversation even as he stomped over, even as he processed the light footsteps of his other soulmates following behind.

“Taichi, let me go!”

“Semi-san, what would you give me if I hand him over?” Kawanishi looked completely at ease, even though he was holding a thrashing Shirabu still.

Semi shrugged. “What would you like?”

“Sukiyaki.”

“I’ll treat you to sukiyaki sometime.”

“Deal.”

Shirabu was abruptly shoved out of his arms, and he barely had time to regain his balance when there was a fierce grip on his hand, an angry gaze trained on him.

“Why are you running?”

Shirabu pressed his lips together and refused to look at any of them.

Semi stared at him for a long moment, before finally saying, “Is this about those soulmates who you know didn’t work out?”

The brunet fixed him with a glare.

“Of course!” He bit out, gaze furious. “Some things are just superstition, alright, just leave me be! I don’t want to be part of all of this soulmate nonsense if we’re all going to _break up_ anyway–”

“I’m sorry.”

The boy with the mask stepped forward, his tone understanding, eyes lowered. “Were they your parents?”

Shirabu turned his glare on him, reaching up to rub at his collarbone. “Would you leave me alone if I said yes?”

The taller boy regarded him quietly, before saying, “Mine broke up as well.”

Shirabu stared. Suguru stared. Semi was pretty sure he was staring as well.

“I know how you feel about the soulbond, because I’ve been there too. But I’ve known Suguru for about three months, and I can affirm that it is not as bad as it seems to be. Having a soulbond simply means that you get along better with your soulmate than you would with other people.”

“Yes, because a divorce means my parents still get along.”

Semi’s grip tightened. “Shirabu, don’t be rude.”

“We won’t know what made them go their separate ways,” the masked boy said. “That is their business. But this – this here and now – this is _our_ business, because there are four parties in this bond, and more than one way to make it work.”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship.” Shirabu insisted, tone hard. The masked boy and Suguru shook their heads.

“You don’t have to be in a relationship with your soulmate, though most people prefer the intimacy of it. The soulbond is, at its core, a close friendship.”

Shirabu pursed his lips, brow furrowed in thought. Semi released him to pat his shoulder. “Give it some thought. You don’t have to agree to be friends, though you clearly need more.”

The brunet wrinkled his nose at him. “Then I’ll _take my time_ to think about it. But in case I decide to agree,” he paused, tone uncharacteristically shy, “Could I have your numbers?”

The two guests agreed easily, as if it had never been a doubt.

x.x.x.x.x

“The aquarium?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“The library.”

“That’s hardly a place for a date!”

Sakusa sighed into his mask, causing Daishou to chuckle. “Are they always like this?”

“You say that as if you don’t see them arguing in the group chat every day.”

“I had hopes that they would be more civil in person.”

“Yes, well, hopes are meant to be crushed.”

Sakusa frowned at him, before remembering that he couldn’t see it. “Sometimes I forget how much you like to sow discord.”

“It is a favourite pastime,” Daishou reminds him cheerfully. “Besides, look at how lively they are!”

“You can go to the aquarium with Suguru, and I’ll go to the library with Kyoomi.”

“It’s supposed to be a _group date_.”

“Oh? It’s so nice to see you thinking about others for _once_.”

“I can be nice if I want to be–”

“Yes,” Sakusa agreed dully. “Very lively.”

Daishou laughed. “Admit it, you love us.”

Sakusa didn’t reply, instead reaching for Daishou’s hand to watch colour spread over it.

Light, happy lavender crept along his skin, intermingling with bright silver and boisterous marigold.

It was an odd painting, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yes, I suppose I do love you guys.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry it's rubbish and OOC, I need to go learn how to write them


End file.
